


Cursed

by MintySquirrel



Series: Limitless [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Thor (2011), Childhood, Cursed Loki, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintySquirrel/pseuds/MintySquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div>
  <p> Loki knows there is something wrong with him. While the young brothers sit for a portrait, he asks his mother the question that has played on his mind for months. The question that changes everything. </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Loveless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/869533) by [asaloki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asaloki/pseuds/asaloki). 



> This is part of a series of one-shots that describe snippets of the brothers' childhoods in Asgard. The series is set in the same universe as Loveless, by Waldostiel (and also my other series, "Loved") but can be read alone. Enjoy! :) 

**Cursed**

“Must we hold hands, Mother?” Loki asks sullenly.

“Yes,” is the terse response as Frigga straightens the ceremonial cape around the younger boy's shoulders.

“We're not babies, Mother.” Thor moans, shifting under the weight of the ridiculous vestments. “We are princes of Asgard! We should be in battle. We should be fighting dragons!”

“Or Frost Giants!”

Frigga smiles indulgently at her sons. They are both so young; she wonders if they will ever cease to be babies in her eyes.

“We could hold swords and-”

“Enough!” she admonishes sternly, quieting the pair. “You are more than princes. You are brothers and you will hold hands and hold still until I have my painting. Are we clear?”

Thor and Loki chorus their assent and the older brother reluctantly wraps his hand around his sibling's and sulks. Staring out of the window at a distant passing cloud, he leaves Loki to occupy himself.

Hours pass. Loki begins to feel the increasingly familiar tingle under his skin that has nothing to do with the numbness of his limbs as he continues to pose for the artist. His previous good mood evaporates as the air around him seems to thicken, although he knows it cannot be so. It always feels this way lately, if he is left with his own thoughts for too long. The slightest pressure, almost undetectable, but he is sure it is there.

Father told him once that, sometimes, you can feel certain types of magic. Powerful spells or strong curses leave a trace, almost like a residue. He has read about it in the library, trying to find an explanation for his strange thoughts and new-found apathy, though he does not know to call it such.

He wants to be normal but the faint sensation is always there, reminding him that he is an anomaly. That he does not belong. Thor doesn’t feel it, nor does Sif, or any of the other friends he has asked. There is something wrong with him, and he is afraid.

-

Last month, Snowfire died.

The young horse was Loki's favourite; he himself had named the foal after the horse in the stories his brother created for him. Loki had taken a carrot from the kitchen, but when he reached the stables, Snowfire's stall was empty. He asked a passing stable boy if they knew where the stallion was, but it was an older man who answered. He sent the lad to fetch Frigga and knelt before the prince, placing his hand on Loki's shoulder. He told him Snowfire had died suddenly that morning. There should have been a tantrum, or tears, or worse; but Loki was calm. He thanked the man for telling him, and asked that he give the carrot to another horse.

The old stable hand later told Frigga that her son was in shock but, in truth, the news had not disturbed him. He had not expected the horse to live forever. That he had passed before his time was regrettable, but the creature had not suffered. Loki would have to choose a new horse next time he went riding. 

It must have been some kind of equestrian ailment that claimed Snowfire. Within the next few days, four more horses passed, including Thor's own stallion. Vigilance had succumbed the night after Snowfire and Thor was inconsolable. He cried and shouted, and insisted that his father take the spirits of Vigilance and Snowfire to rest in Valhalla. When Odin refused, Thor locked himself in his chambers and refused to speak to him for a week.

Loki, confused by his brother’s reaction, had asked his mother why Thor was so distressed. She only looked at him with sad eyes, stroking his cheek and kissing his forehead before leaving to find his father.

-

The room is quiet but for the gentle scraping of the artist’s brush and the occasional shifting of Frigga’s gown as she pulls another stitch through her tapestry. 

“Mother?” Loki whispers softly. His mouth is dry. It is hard to swallow. 

She looks up from her sewing but does not answer.

“Am I cursed?”

-

Frigga's heart sinks in her chest at the tremble in her son's voice. 

She longs to tell him no, that he is a normal boy with no troubles and no greater care than to study hard and keep his chambers orderly. He looks at her, his innocent face so plain to read. He has been an open book to her since before he could talk. This is not a question asked on a whim to satisfy some fleeting curiosity. Tears well in her eyes, unbidden. 

Thor is lost in his own thoughts of dragons and swords, only half listening to his little brother's inane musings. His mother's hesitation to reassure Loki and put his fears to rest, however, is strange and his attention is drawn to her. He sees her eyes wet with tears and reads her concern and now he is scared too.

“Mother? Is Loki ill? Is there something wrong with him?” 

“There is nothing wrong with your brother.” Frigga answers with conviction, but she knows she cannot keep the truth from them any longer. It will devastate Thor, but Loki... Her youngest son needs to know the truth. At least, as much truth as she herself is privy to.

Loki pulls his hand from his brother's and clutches a fistful of his cape. His mother's face has given him his answer. He is cursed.

Frigga instructs the painter to leave. He has enough of the image committed to canvas that he can finish the piece from memory anyway. She waits for the heavy door to swing shut behind him before crossing to where her sons sit, waiting in silence. She kneels before Loki and cups his cheeks in her palms, brushing a stray strand of dark hair from his face with a soft stroke of her thumb.

“I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. When you smiled up at me, you melted my heart. You are my son and I will love you, always. You must know that nothing will ever, ever change that.”

Loki stares, transfixed, into his mother's eyes.

“You are…” she begins, but, though she knows this moment is crucial, she cannot find the words.

“Cursed.” Loki finishes. He tries to turn his face away but she doesn’t let him.

“Not cursed,” she corrects, “Only...different.” She wants to back out, to save her sons the pain of such a revelation, but it is too late. Maybe Odin was right to have kept it from them.

“You are affected by a powerful magic. We are told-”

“This isn't possible! Thor pushes himself from the bench he is sat on and begins to pace. “There's nothing wrong with my brother!” 

Frigga goes after her eldest son.

“Thor, sit down. Your brother is fine, really, but I speak the truth. There is a spell that your fa-”

“Who could have cast such a spell? Father is the most powerful being in the realm. Why has he not broken the curse?”

“We cannot say how Loki became afflicted; we only know that your father has yet to find a way to free-”

“Where is the All-Father? I would speak to-”

“Thor, listen to-”

“I WILL NOT-”

“Mother?”

Loki's voice is quiet, only just heard over the shouts of his brother. Thor and his mother fall silent. The dark haired boy stares out of the window as Thor had just minutes before. It seems like a lifetime ago.

“What will happen to me?”

“Nothing will happen. If you fight this thing, Loki, nothing will happen. Your father believes the magic is intended to rob you of your feelings, to make you stop caring for loved ones, but only if you let it. You are so loved, Loki. By me. By your brother and father. Your friends. You have such goodness in you, Loki. Good that will stop this darkness ever taking hold. You just have to remember how much we all love you.” 

Loki nods but shows no other sign of having heard. 

“Can I be cured?”

“Loki-” his mother begins, but Thor interrupts. He sits beside his brother and takes the younger boys fist in his hands. Loki turns to him.

“I will find a way to free you, Brother. I will break this curse. No matter what it takes, I swear, I will see you free.”

Loki thinks to dismiss Thor's vow as impossible. A sweet gesture; the product of his brother's sense of duty and kind heart, so unlike his own, but something stops him.

There is a fierceness in Thor's expression. An unyielding determination and stubborn certainty that holds Loki's tongue. Instead of despair, he suddenly feels hope. If anyone can find a way to save him, it's Thor, and if he can't...

If there is no cure, and it falls to Loki to fend off the darkness alone, he knows he will succeed. 

There is nothing in all the nine realms that will stop him from loving his brother. 


End file.
